


Off Beat

by arosebyabbie



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dick and Tim bond, Eating Disorders, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 13:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arosebyabbie/pseuds/arosebyabbie
Summary: Dick watches Tim as he dances and knows something is wrong. He worries because everyone around Tim knows he won't say anything when something is wrong.An AU where Bruce became the Artistic Director of the Gotham City Ballet instead of Batman. He still collects orphans, who are following in his foot steps, and the scaly panties still exist so, really, all the important things are there.





	Off Beat

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very, very random AU. I love dance AUs and the Batman fandom is lacking (which, like, not surprising- it's Batman) so I wrote one.
> 
> Bruce is the Artistic Director of the Gotham City Ballet. Dick dances in the Company and Jason and Tim attend the related Gotham Ballet Academy. Damian is too young to attend, but also dances. Bruce is still rich, his parents still died, and Alfred still raised him (but works for him because Bruce is weird). 
> 
> Again, this is random and weird and probably not very good but I hope you enjoy it at least a little!

Dick watched Tim intently as his brother danced through the combination across the floor. It had been a rough class on everyone but especially Tim and Jason who, despite being Academy students, had been invited to join the Company for their Saturday morning class. It had been a tough class for everyone and Dick himself was grateful that their adoptive father hadn’t been there to see him fall out of the same turn sequence three times in a row. Dick was proud of Tim in a sense- his brother was doing better than Dick ever could have at Tim’s age- but he also knew what his brother could do and Tim was straight up struggling. 

At first, Dick attributed it to his skill level. After all, Tim was more than three years out from his Academy graduation. But that wasn’t it. Tim wasn’t missing an extra beat on a jump or rotation on a turn. He was making it through the movement but it was sloppy and he was trailing ever so slightly behind the music, which wasn’t like Tim at all. Tim’s technique was perfect where his strength sometimes failed him and he had a hard-won musicality to him that almost matched Dick’s. Something was definitely off with Tim today and whatever was wrong, Dick couldn’t figure it out.

Across the studio from Dick, Jason was leaning against the barre, intently watching the group dancing across the floor. He’d spent the entire class as far from Dick as possible- as if that would be enough to separate them in anyone’s mind- and dancing as if he had to prove he belonged there on his skill alone. Dick walked over to stand next to Jason, putting his hands on the barre and stretching out his calves.

“Go away, Goldie.” Jason watched the Company dancers like he was studying for a particularly intense physics test. He was working hard for his Company offer after taking on another year at the Academy to stick it to Bruce over some disagreement they were having and treated any chance he had to watch Company dancers like they were holding the key to his offer.

“Babybird is getting sloppy,” Dick mumbled, trying for all the world to look like he and Jason were not having a conversation. Dinah Lance did not appreciate having her classes interrupted.

Jason didn’t say anything for a moment. He liked to pretend that he wasn’t as fiercely protective of Tim as Dick was. “I know.”

“You know why?”

“No. He left the common room early last night so I doubt he’s lacking on sleep. Has he mentioned an injury to you?”

Dick almost snorted. “Tim? _Tell_ someone about an injury? Yeah, right.” Dick paused, thinking. “Is he eating?”                                         

Jason paused again. Dick knew the look on his face. Jason hadn’t seen Tim eat for a couple of days. “I’m gonna kill the demon brat.”

“Don’t kill anyone, yet. We’ll keep an eye on it at lunch.”

“Fine. Now get away from me.” With that, Jason pushed away from the barre and started marking through the combination as a new group started on the floor.

* * *

 Dick went home to the Manor with his brothers for lunch even though he had rehearsal later in the afternoon. Damian, still too young to attend the Academy, and Dick, as an Academy graduate and Company member, both lived at home but Tim and Jason lived on the Academy campus so Alfred generally demanded their presence at the Manor at some point over the weekend- not that Alfred would ever do something as rude as demand.

With Tim and Jason joining Dick for the Saturday morning Company class and Damian with his mother for the weekend, Alfred was putting together a weekend of the other boys’ favorite dishes. He’d made Jason a ridiculously large meatball sub and Tim two chicken caesar wraps in his homemade tomato and basil tortillas. Both Tim and Jason often complained about the monotony of food at the Academy and Dick couldn’t blame them. The Academy had plenty of food to meet the nutritional needs of its dancers but it did not have a ton of variety. Tim complained almost excessively often about missing Alfred’s various flavored wraps. 

Which is why Dick was confused when Tim scrunched his nose before pulling the tortillas off and stealing Jason’s fork to eat the insides as a salad. Jason met Dick’s eyes from across the table.

The lunch conversation was light- Dick asked his brothers how school was going, particularly preparations for the Christmas Gala. Neither of their classes were participating in the Company’s Nutcracker production this year but Jason and Tim had both won solos in the cut-throat auditions for the Academy’s Christmas Gala and Dick was excited to see them show off all the new material they’d been working on. Tim told them about a pas de quatre he’d been working on with Bart, Connor, and Cassie that would probably never see the light of a stage but that he was really proud of. Jason had been working on a project he felt similarly about with Roy. When Dick suggested the Young Choreographer’s Showcase that the Academy put on in the first month of the spring semester every year, Jason said he and Roy were thinking about it but Tim shrugged it off.

“Maybe. It’s mostly been for fun so far but we haven’t really talked about it either way. They might come over later today to get off campus and work on it some.”

“If you plan on dancing for any length of time later today, I suggest you finish the rest of that salad.” Dick almost jumped at Alfred’s voice but he’d gotten pretty used to the butler’s interjections over the years. 

Dick looked at Tim’s plate. It looked appropriately messy for a plate of salad being eaten but there’s no way Tim had eaten the contents of even one full wrap. Tim looked a little pained but he managed to forced cheerfulness as he said: “I’m alright, Alfred. Conner’s bringing some of Ma Kent’s homemade power bars later.”

Dick saw Alfred narrow his eyes at Tim’s back as the boy got up but the butler didn’t say anything else. Much like arguing with Bruce, arguing with Tim could be like arguing with a brick wall.

“I’ll be lifting if anyone is looking for me,” Tim tossed over his shoulder as he left the dining room.

It was silent for a moment as Alfred cleared Tim’s plate. Jason cleared his throat. “He has a calculus midterm on Tuesday and a history midterm on Wednesday.”

Dick hummed. That was weird. Tim often spent his weekends at home holed up on the couch in Bruce’s study, working on homework or the college courses he was taking online, Tim’s desk a rarely used mess of papers, random electronics, and dance gear. He would venture down to the dance studios or the home gym from time to time but he usually had the tendency to throw himself into whatever area of his life was stressing him out at any given moment. It was a poor habit, almost certainly learned from Bruce, but Dick was sometimes grateful for it because it made it easy to see what his little brother was stressed about. If Tim was passing up chances to study for midterms in favor of spending extra time in the gym or the studio, then it was ballet stressing him out. 

* * *

 

Dick was half an hour late to rehearsal. He knew he’d been called but couldn’t remember for what scene so he was hoping he hadn’t actually missed much. When he walked into the studio, it looked like he’d gotten lucky- or, well, as lucky has he could have been.

It turned out they were rehearsing the party scene, most of which Dick spent in a box. They were putting together all the pieces that had been rehearsed separately so far and hadn’t reached his solo yet so he wasn’t _technically_ late. His luck ended there as Bruce appeared to be directing this rehearsal. He didn’t so much as glance at Dick when he entered but continued watching Drosselmeyer lead the children through the party games.

Just as Dick managed to sneak into his place, right on time to be ready for his solo, Bruce cut off the accompanist. “Alright, everyone, take fifteen. Nice of you to join us, Dick. Can I speak to you for a moment?”

So much for sneaking in. Dick jogged across the studio to Bruce, high-fiving Wally as he passed. Everyone else spread out to the edges of the room, sipping at water or stretching out cold muscles. Bruce looked about ready to yell at him for taking advantage of his status as the Company Director’s ward. Dick had to diffuse that real quick. “Hey, Bruce. I’m sorry I’m late. I went to the Manor for lunch.”

That apparently gave Bruce pause. He raised an eyebrow, not mentioning the fact that Dick generally wasn’t allowed to call him by his first name on Company property. “You went to the Manor?”

Dick nodded. “I was worried about Tim. He was off during class this morning." 

“I was told he did well for his skill level.” Bruce was as stone-faced as always but Dick could see the concern in his eyes. 

“Dinah might not know that he’s better than he was this morning but he is. He was off beat.”

That caught Bruce’s attention a little bit more. Bruce was incredibly proud of Tim’s talent, particularly the musicality he’d helped instill in the boy who had never need a lot of technical help. “And did your trip to the Manor reveal anything?”

“Jason and I think he might not be eating.”

Bruce scowled and his shoulders tensed. “I won’t be home until late tonight.”

“I was planning on going home right after rehearsal.”

Bruce nodded. “Don’t be late again. Go make sure you’re warm before we get to your solo.”

“Aye, aye, Mr. Wayne.” Dick threw Bruce a lazy salute before jogging over to where Wally and Donna were stretching together.

* * *

Several hours later, Dick found himself back at the Manor, still a few hours early for dinner. He found Jason in the Library reading Proust- definitely not for school- but decided not to disturb him. He wandered the Manor a little longer, stopping by the kitchen to say hi to Alfred before he eventually found himself by the practice studios in the west wing.

There was music coming from studio 2, Tim’s preferred practice room in the Manor. Dick stood in the doorway and watched as Tim, Cassie, Kon, and Bart danced their way through the music- an eerie and powerful instrumental Dick had been hearing coming from Tim’s room for the past couple of months. They ended before the music- seemingly cut off in the middle of a phrase. Tim rushed over to the stereo to shut the music off. His eyes slid to Dick quickly but Dick just shook his head. Tim should ignore him and run his rehearsal.

“Okay, that was great but we need to cut the extra turn so we can make it into the next transition. We’re going to do that series of lifts that we cut earlier now so we need to get out of this section before the music changes.” Dick’s heart swelled up with pride at Tim’s choreography instincts- if he was following what was happening, Dick’s main criticism of what he’d seen would have addressed the same transition Tim was fixing. It was definitely a good piece, though everyone’s timing hadn’t been perfected and synchronized yet; Bart was always half a beat ahead of everyone while Tim seemed half a beat behind.

“What if we cut something from me and Bart’s part while you and Cassie do your thing? You finish early so we could finish at the same time instead? We don’t need that brise.” 

“You just think the brise is hard,” Tim said, grinning to show Kon he was teasing. “I like that Cassie and I are still while you hit that big beat with your jump. I think if we cut the extra turn or if we make that jump section be in two parts instead of in the round then we should be fine.”

“I vote we keep the turn and do the jumps in two pieces instead of four,” Cassie said, taking down her ponytail and pulling it back up in one smooth motion. “I worked too hard to get that turn on the right timing to cut any of it.”

“I agree,” said Bart, not moving from the place on the floor he’d fallen to when they had finished.

“Okay, so I’ll go with Bart and Cassie go with Kon. Then it will at least be somewhat interesting." 

“And then after the turn we go into the lifts with Cassie?”

Tim nodded. “And then we go into the lifts with Cassie. Let’s go over it again before we try it with the music.”

Bart jumped up from his spot on the floor, somehow immediately gaining energy. Wally could be like that sometimes but Bart was honestly on a whole other level. “You weaklings better not drop her. That would be so totally not crash.”

Connor looked at Bart in disbelief. “Dude, _Cass_ lifts more than you. And she’s a tiny Asian ninja.” 

“Emphasis on _ninja_ , dude.”

“Guys, get over here and lift me.”  Cassie tossed her head back stood with her arms wide out in a position that Dick would bet was not at all the position she would be lifted from. 

Tim laughed at his friends. “Alright, guys. Let’s go from the turn. Cassie, stay still until we get to you.  We get four steps right out of the turn and then we go with the lifts. Ready? 5, 6, 7, 8.”

And just like that they were serious again, dancing with focus and determination as Tim counted out the beat as they went, a little slower than the pace of the actual music. Dick was impressed with the lift sequence, despite the fact that it was still a little jerkier than Tim probably hoped. The boys passed Cassie between them for a good 16 counts, dipping and weaving through each other to keep her feet from touching the ground.

Once Cassie was safely on the ground again, Tim clapped his hands, grinning. “That was great, guys. Want to try full speed?”

There was a chorus of agreement and they worked through the sequence again with Tim counting. As a whole, it was smoother than their previous try but Dick thought he saw Tim’s arm start to buckle before he had handed Cassie off to Kon.

“Cool,” Tim said when they’d done it again, seeming a little breathless. Dick tried not to worry about it. “Try it with the music? From the jump section?” 

There were several noises of assent and Tim went to the stereo system, cueing the music to the proper pace. The music played about two eight counts before Tim counted them in. This time the transition in the music moved with the transition to the lifts and it looked even better than it had without the music. At least until Bart handed Cassie off to Tim. The lifts stuttered as Tim tried to support her fully but couldn’t. Thankfully, Cassie was fully in Kon’s hands before Tim fainted.

Dick jumped into action, racing towards his little brother, music still blaring through the speakers. Tim’s friends backed away, Bart who racing to turn off the music. 

“Is he okay?” asked Cassie.

Tim’s breathing was shallow but Dick was certain he’d be fine so he hooked one arm under Tim’s knees and the other behind his back and lifted his brother carefully. “He’ll be fine. I’ll take him to the med bay. Will one of you get Alfred for me?”

Bart volunteered, running down the hallway to the kitchen. Cassie and Kon followed Dick and Tim into the med bay. The med bay was more like a college athletic trainer’s room than a hospital or doctor’s office and Dick laid Tim down on one of the two padded exam tables.

Bart didn’t take very long to return with the butler in tow and Tim woke up almost immediately after Alfred pulled out the smelling salts. Before Tim was totally aware, Alfred sent them all back to the studio. Dick sat against the wall and stretched. Kon stood at the barre and stretched. Cassie sat on the piano bench and braided her hair. Bart just stood in the middle of the room for a minute before he started turning. Like his cousin Wally, Bart could turn like a top. Dick couldn’t tell if it was out of boredom or nervousness, two of Wally’s main reasons for random turning.

“What do you think’s wrong?” Cassie said, apparently nervous now that she’d finished braiding her hair and had nothing to occupy herself with.

“Who knows,” Kon said, shrugging. “You know Tim. He never says anything until it’s too late.” 

“He didn’t eat much at lunch today,” Dick said carefully, watching Tim’s friends react. Maybe they had noticed him not eating.

Bart had stopped turning, shifting from foot to foot and not saying anything. Dick thought he looked like he wanted to say something but before he could, Alfred peeked his head into the studio. “I am taking Master Timothy up to his bedroom now. He is fine but there will be no more dancing for him today. You all may come up in five minutes.”

Once Alfred was gone, there seemed to be a collective sigh of relief in the room. There was another minute of silence before Cassie “I’m gonna put on some actual clothes quick,” Cassie said, gesturing at her sports bra and shorts. Kon nodded, and they both left for the small room next to the studios that had been designated a changing room. 

Dick pushed himself from the floor. Bart was at his side before he realized it. 

“I don’t think Tim’s been eating,” Bart said quietly. “He’s been staying late in the studio or spending meals in his room studying.”

Bart looked worried and Dick could tell he was thinking that he should have said something sooner. Dick ruffled the younger man’s hair. “Thanks for telling me, Bart. We’ll make sure he’s okay.” 

* * *

Once Tim was in his bedroom, Alfred let Tim’s friends have five minutes with him before shooing them away and promising them snacks in the kitchen. Before leaving Alfred turned to Tim and gave him firm instructions. “Take some time to rest, Master Timothy. When you feel better, come to the kitchen for some food. If you do not come down by half past, I will bring something up for you.” 

“Yes, Alfred.”

Alfred gave Dick a significant look as he closed the door and when Dick turned to face Tim, bundled up on his bed, Dick knew his brother had seen it too. Tim was pouting, his knees pulled up to his chest with his chin resting on top. Dick sat as close as he could to Tim without Tim getting mad at him.

“Talk to me, Timmy. What’s going on?” 

“I’m just tired.”

“I don’t think so, kid. When did you stop eating?”

Tim grimaced. “I didn’t _stop_ eating.” 

The look on Tim’s face told Dick a lot. “What’s going on, Tim, really?” 

Tim didn’t acknowledge him that time. He didn’t even look at him. Instead of pushing, Dick just started talking. He told Tim about the strongest parts of the piece Tim’s quartet was working on and praised his little brother’s choreographic instincts. He talked about a new lift he and Wally and Donna wanted to try and how he’d reworked it in his mind after seeing the lift Tim was working on. He talked about wanting to choreograph a piece for Tim’s End of the Year Gala and how he would like to do it for Tim and his friends if he had the chance.

“You’ve come such a long way since I’ve known you, Tim. It’s amazing to watch you dance and I can’t wait until Bruce-”

Dick stopped talking when Tim finally- _finally_ \- looked at him.

“Bruce gave me Robin.” 

Dick’s mind reeled for a second because the end to his cut off sentence was going to be “gives you Robin.” Robin was the first and last solo Bruce had choreographed for Dick. He’d danced variations of it for three years. Jason had done it for two. It evolved and changed as they did, as it needed to for various competitions and showcases, as they learned new skills and old ones became less impressive. Bruce considered Robin his greatest accomplishment, choreographing for his sons and protégées, rather than the many awards he'd received.

“You don’t sound very excited.” Dick knew Tim wanted Robin. He’d caught him before, listening to the music and watching the old videos again and again.

Tim shrugged. “I was.”

“What happened?”

“Damian happened.”

Dick sighed. Of course. “What did he say?”

“I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“Tim, I invented Robin. Damian doesn't know what he's talking about."

"He’s right. My Robin's never going to be as good as yours or Jason's."

Dick's heart broke at that. By the way Tim said it, he knew it had been something Damian had said but Tim had already believed. Each Robin was different so Tim's _wouldn't_ look like Dick's or Jason's but that didn't matter. Dick's Robin had been graceful and acrobatic, while Jason's had been more high energy and aggressive. Tim's would be entirely different- with his versatility, Tim's Robin could be anything. It would be incredible, Dick knew, to watch Tim dance his Robin for four years. With Tim, the potential was endless and after four years, it would be on a completely different level. Dick didn't know how to express any of this to Tim in a way that would make his little brother understand. 

"All Robin's are different, Timmy. You know that."

Tim rolled his eyes. "But not all Robin's are good."

"Tim, look at me." When Tim didn't look at him, Dick reached out and pushed at his chin until Tim met his eyes. "You are one of the most amazing dancers I've ever seen. If you think Jason or I could have done half as well as you did in a Company class at your age, you're crazy. You're going to do a better Robin than Jason or I ever did. Jason, and Damian, and I will do great things some day but you're going to be the next Bruce. You're going to be even better than Bruce, Babybird. He's giving you Robin way before he gave it to me or Jason. Don't listen to Damian."

Tim took a deep breath, his eyes suspiciously wet. “My thighs are too flabby for the shorts."

Dick wasn’t going to _kill_ Damian but he was definitely going to kill Damian. “Oh, Babybird. You do not have any flab on your thighs. You're going to look amazing in whatever costume you wear. Did Damian say that?"

Tim nodded. "He said I wouldn't fit the costume. And he's right. I don't have enough muscle to fill out a shirt in that cut and my thighs are so thick-"

"Tim," Dick said firmly, cutting off his younger brother. He didn't mention that Tim was basically a stick. "You can absolutely fit that costume.  If Jason fit his monster thighs through those shorts, you could too. I'm not sure why you'd _want_ to though. I didn’t notice when I wore it but watching Jay in those shorts- man, what was I thinking?” Tim snorted. "Jason had the choice to change his costume but he didn't. I bet we could get you some pants."

“It’s really the scaly pattern that’s the problem. And that they look more like underwear than shorts."

“I guess that means you want pants? And no scales?” 

“Yes. Definitely pants.”

Tim laughed with Dick- an actual real laugh. When they both calmed down, Dick put a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Tim, I know you don't believe me right now when I say your body is perfect but will you promise me to try?"

Tim shrugged. “I just can't see that when I look in a mirror. I can't believe it, Dick."

"But you have before, right?" Dick waited for Tim to nod before continuing. "So you have before and you will again. That's how it works.”

"I don't know, Dick- I'm just not-"

"Tim. You're incredible and you look amazing every time you dance. Damian needs his eyes checked if he can't see that. You got that?" Tim nodded, which Dick took as a win even if his baby brother still looked unsure. Dick couldn't expect more right now. He stood up and gestured for Tim to join him. Their conversation wasn't over by a long shot, not until Dick found out how long Tim had been not eating and if he'd been binging or not, but it could rest for now. "Good. Come on, he said, slinging his arms around his (too small) brother. "If we keep Alfred company while he's making dinner, I bet we can get started on that costume design."


End file.
